


Of Waltzes and Dreams

by Wanderlust_Skies



Series: Liebesträum [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Background FrUk - Freeform, F/M, Historical Hetalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 19:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17209622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust_Skies/pseuds/Wanderlust_Skies
Summary: Prussia felt his chest tighten. His heart twisted uncomfortably and he could feel anger and frustration bubbling within his being. It was a strange sensation; he had never experienced it before. “How long do you think they will last?” He asked suddenly. It bothered him all day, as much as he hated to admit it.For a moment, England fell silent. A pensive expression befell him. “Gilbert, we both know the answer to that question will infuriate you.”





	Of Waltzes and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend playing "Nuvole Bianche" by Ludovico Einaudi while reading this. It's a beautiful piano piece that reflects Gilbert's emotions throughout this fic. Enjoy.

_Buda Castle, Budapest, 1867_  
  
Prussia was on his fifth glass of beer.  
  
It was decent, he admitted to himself, not that it was anywhere close in superiority compared to his own. But it did its job. His mind started to feel a familiar haze envelop his thoughts, but he still had his inhibitions in check. After all, he was in public. A highly formal event to boot.  
  
Dignitaries surrounded him in their own respective conversation circles. Even some nations were among the crowd, enjoying the abundance of alcohol and social interactions. An orchestra controlled the lively atmosphere of the ballroom with the fast tempo of the violins and other accompanying instruments. Gilbert could feel the raw energy and celebration ring in his ears and thrum against his chest.  
  
Normally, he should feel happy. The fanfare of a newly crowned monarch was always a magnificent spectacle, even if he was merely a visiting nation. It signaled a time of change and of hope. However, Prussia concluded that the change everyone else had looked forward to, left him bitter and resentful.  
  
...Not that it bothered him, of course.  
  
Well-hidden behind the throngs of nobles and government officials, he watched a young couple dance in the center of the grand ballroom. His eyes softened when it rested on the woman. Her chestnut colored hair stopped on her mid-back. An Edelweiss flower was placed on her left ear. Her light green eyes shone as it contrasted her flowing white dress. Though her movements were a tad bit stiff compared to her partner, she displayed gentility unique only to her.  
  
Elizabeta. Hungary.  
  
Gilbert’s gaze narrowed when it fixated on the young man leading the graceful dance. What makes him so interesting to you? He had a slim frame that suggested a gentle upbringing and the fluidness of his motions only supported the aristocratic air he had. His hair was gently slicked back with a curious curl that defied gravity and stubbornly remained indifferent.  
  
Roderich. Austria.  
  
_I don’t understand._  
  
"Is something the matter, Prussia?" A voice suddenly resounded to the left of the nation.  
  
Prussia glanced at his glass before he looked at the speaker. " _Nein_ , I was just enjoying the beer." One of the two massive eyebrows the newcomer had was raised. The man clearly didn't believe him. Prussia took another gulp. His gaze returned to the couple.  
  
In the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw the other swirl his glass of scotch before he took a tentative sip. "Staring won't make the problem go away," the bushy-browed man said offhandedly.  
  
_It won’t and I’ll be damned to try._ Prussia finally tore his gaze away from the other nations. He found himself looking down at his half-empty glass pensively. "What are you talking about, England? The awesome me never has problems," the Prussian mumbled.  
  
England snorted and casually indicated to the dance floor. “I’m not blind,” he mutters, cocking his head to Roderich and Elizabeta’s dancing figures, “Perhaps _you_ are.”  
  
"What do you know about it?" Prussia glared at him before he took a particularly big gulp of beer. How was it that England saw right through him? Was he really that obvious?  
  
The Englishman offered a slight look of disgust before he settled on an indifferent composure. "It never gets easier,” Arthur sighed with a frown. His tone was that of longing and somber realization, unusual for the rather brash and arrogant nation. Perhaps Gilbert analyzed it too much. Or it was the beer. “The more you push it away, the harder it gets to forget.”  
  
Since when did England ever offer advice?  
  
Especially when it concerned the matters of the heart?  
  
“Don’t you have someone else to bother, brows?” Like a certain Frenchman he spied in the distance, in a deep conversation with one of Austria’s ministers. He wanted to question England’s strange behavior. Although curious, he held his tongue, unwilling to lead the conversation further into the machinations of one’s feelings.  
  
England followed his gaze and his lips thinned. To the Germanic nation’s surprise, he said nothing. He merely stared at France and sipped his drink. “Normally I do, but your predicament is far more interesting to deal with at the moment. The frog will live for the next few minutes relatively unscathed without me looming nearby.”  
  
The two stood in silence as they watched from the sidelines.  
  
Waves of memories washed over the Prussian, unrelenting and unforgiving. A flash of wooden swords. Echoes of laughter. Playful banter. Adrenaline coursing through his veins and the rush of excitement. All of them sparked feelings Gilbert fought to keep silent. He missed the carefree days of playing a little game of war. How he would give a triumphant yell of victory or collect whatever dignity he had left when he lost to Hungary. He never forgot the time when she managed to win the game after outmaneuvering him with a swift kick to his chest. Covered in mud and various bruises, it was when he finally realized he fell in love with her.  
  
"I don't get it..." Prussia started, breaking the comfortable silence. "What makes her drawn to him?" He then downed the remnants of his beer, unable to comprehend what in the world could’ve possessed Elizabeta to fall in love with Roderich. “He's Austria...stuck-up and can't win a fight to save his life."  
  
Where had he gone wrong? ...where had _they_ gone wrong?  
  
Was it the time spent apart that truly caused them to drift away from each other? Did he not pay attention to the red flags that indicated a failing relationship? Gilbert swallowed hard as his chest tightened. Perhaps England was right. He was _blind_.  
  
“Something tells me you had a hand in this. Might I remind you of your most recent war? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the order of events that brought us to this celebration?”  
  
Prussia wanted to throw something at England. Unfortunately, this was a joyous occasion and he had to be on his best behavior. Though, it didn’t stop him from briefly contemplating the idea of hitting Arthur square in the face with his mug. “I didn’t,” he snapped and fully turned to the island nation. “If I hadn’t kicked his ass last year, this wouldn’t have happened.” In all honesty, if Austria had just allowed him to unify the German states without a fuss, then the war wouldn’t have started. It was all _his_ fault for being such a stubborn idiot.  
  
“You got what you wanted in the end. To the victor go the spoils,” Arthur remarked cheekily. Oh, the Englishman definitely tested his patience. If Gilbert had known that this was the reality of his actions before he declared war on Roderich, he would have never done so. In retrospect, he had gained power and control over the much-disputed states, but he’d never realized the outcome’s impact on him personally.  
  
Prussia felt his chest tighten. His heart twisted uncomfortably and he could feel anger and frustration bubbling within his being. It was a strange sensation; he had never experienced it before. “How long do you think they will last?” He asked suddenly. It bothered him all day, as much as he hated to admit it.  
  
For a moment, England fell silent. A pensive expression befell him. “Gilbert, we both know the answer to that question will infuriate you.”  
  
Unsatisfied with the island nation’s response, Gilbert replaced the empty mug in his hand with a new one when a waiter passed by. He hastily downed half of the beer and waved off the Englishman. “Thanks for nothing, brows.”  
  
Said man eyed Prussia wearily. “Don’t do anything stupid, Gil,” he warned with a sharp glare.  
  
“Too late,” the Germanic nation flashed a wolfish grin and bounded off toward the dance floor.  
  
It was stupidly impulsive, he admitted as soon as he reached his destination. Before he even realized it, he tapped Roderich on the shoulder. “Can I cut in?” Normally, he’d push the bespectacled man away without much thought. Luckily for the aforementioned nation, he was in Hungary’s company.  
  
Austria stared at him and raised his chin ever so slightly— as if he had been offended. “Excuse me?”  
  
“You’re excused, specs,” the Prussian quipped with a cheeky grin. “Take a break. The awesome me’s gotta have a dance with Liz.” He then placed the mug of beer in the surprised nation’s hand as a not-so-subtle way of brushing him off to the side. The strategy worked, forcing Austria to step aside, allowing Gilbert to finally talk to Elizabeta. Roderich appeared apologetic to the Hungarian nation before his expression changed to something harsher when his eyes briefly passed the silver-haired nation’s pointed gaze.  
  
Although Prussia was certain that Hungary never expected him to act so brash, she remained calm and— for once— held back a snarky remark. Instead, she graciously accepted Gilbert’s outstretched hand, an offer to dance, and began the familiar pattern of the waltz.  
  
“So the Prussian still remembered how to dance,” Elizabeta said with a sly smile. Her words gripped Gilbert’s heart and for a moment, he froze. She was referring to the time they snuck out of the Congress in Vienna. Where they escaped the nobles, the officials, and found themselves in a large garden that looked as if it came straight from a fairytale. Where they laughed with abandon and chased each other like children. Where they confessed to one another and shared their first kiss. Distant, near painful memories.  
  
“You know Old Fritz,” Gilbert chuckled, his thoughts briefly centered on his beloved deceased king, “ Appearances need to be kept up to get people to respect you. Or something like that.” He twirled her, following the movements of the dancing couples around them.  
  
“You never listened before, so why do you do it now?” Liz asked, a veiled jab toward the Germanic nation and his tendency to almost never follow the rules.  
  
Said man scoffed. “Liz, you know me,” he rolled his eyes for added effect, “I only follow when it suits me.”  
  
“Oh really?” Hungary’s eyes widen at his remark before she shook her head disapprovingly. Despite that, she smiled. “You haven’t changed much then.”  
  
Although the comment was innocent, Prussia couldn’t help but feel a wave of unease crash into his being. Truthfully, he hadn’t changed much, he was still the same Gilbert— she was right about that.  
  
But the world did.  
  
Circumstances that he found himself in were entirely new to him. Problems he never dreamt of facing were suddenly issues he had to deal with as quickly as possible. But none of them were the real reasons why Gilbert felt the warm and yet oddly melancholic sensation of nostalgia so acutely.  
  
Hungary had changed. _That_ was difficult for him to come to terms with. From the whispers among his own court about Hungary's people being incensed about the coronation, Gilbert wondered what Elizabeta felt about the whole spectacle. How did she calmly take all of these tumultuous months with ease? He expected her to kick and scream, vehemently protesting her prominent role in this political stage. Nothing made sense.     
  
“True...but you have,” Gilbert said carelessly to Elizabeta. She had grown more _beautiful_ and _stronger_. _More independent._ “I still can’t believe you _want_ to help Four-Eyes. He can survive on his own.” He realized his mistake the moment Hungary’s eyes darkened and the air between them became heavy.  
  
“Is this why you wanted to dance with me? To talk about the decision I made?” She accused him and her words stung him more than he would’ve liked to admit. “Gilbert, I don’t have any regrets.”  
  
It felt as though a rug had been pulled from under Prussia. With his current state of mind in a haze due to the alcohol and the thrum of emotional instability resonating throughout his entire body, he could only stare at her and continue their dance. “Are you sure?” He whispered softly. “If I ask you a few years later, will you say something different?”  
  
If Hungary was angry with his attitude, she hadn’t shown it. Instead, she considered his question before her jade eyes met his. “I don’t think I will. I’m happy with what I chose.”  
  
Her answer hadn’t surprised him. He expected it. _So why does it feel like she just stabbed me?_ “Okay,” Gilbert lamely stated. He took a deep breath and held back a sigh. With a gentle smile only she ever had the privilege of seeing, he attempted to lighten the stifling atmosphere and laughed shakily. “Alright, no need to get all defensive, Liz, I get it. As long as you’re happy.” He continued with the dance, despite his growing desire to leave immediately. Frankly, Prussia didn’t know what to do. Half of him wanted to run and save himself from the anger and disappointment that had been festering since he received the invitation to the coronation. The other half didn’t want the dance to end and simply wished to hold Elizabeta close. “If Specs is giving you any trouble, you know where to find me,” he murmured, forcing a lighthearted laugh.  
  
To his credit, Hungary humored the man as she quipped, “I can handle myself.”  
  
“I know,” Gilbert snorted, relieved that they’ve returned to their playful banter. “That’s why I want to watch the fight from the sidelines. Watching you kick Austria’s ass is pure gold.”  
  
A wide smile graced Elizabeta’s features and she chuckled. “Always looking for a fight,” she sighed half-heartedly. “You don’t win hearts and minds with brute force, you know.”  
  
Centuries ago, she would have never said those words.  
  
“I know it won’t. But it keeps me on my toes. The awesome me’s gotta be ready for anything,” he explained as he spared a glance behind Hungary and found France among the guests- the latter eyed him in a cautious manner as he whispered something to England, who was somehow in his company.  
  
Both of them were like a pair of conspirators, surreptitiously making plans as they watched their target. Arthur’s face was deceitfully blank and he merely stared at Gilbert. Although their behavior and apparent animosity towards him was to be expected, that wasn’t what Prussia focused on. He found it strange; the island nation wasn’t exactly in the best of terms with the Frenchman. Frankly, neither was he.  
  
Before the Germanic nation could figure out what they were exactly planning, Hungary captured his attention once more. “Thank you,” she started as she looked up to him. “This really means a lot to me. Especially when you and Rod aren’t talking to each other lately.”  
  
“It’s no big deal,” Prussia shrugged and quickened his pace to match the change in tempo. Violins joined the orchestra in the form of strong solo pieces accompanied by the rest of the instruments. “Specs is Specs— he’s always got a problem with me and my greatness. And it’s totally not awesome for me to skip out on an event like this.” _Really, I’m only here because of you._  
  
As quickly as it started, the dance ended and the couples dispersed. A majority of them merged into the sea of people on all sides of the dancefloor. Gilbert took a deep breath and bowed as Elizabeta curtsied in response.  
  
He had to tell her. Now. Before he loses his chance. “Hungary, I…” _Why is this hard to say? I still lov—_ A firm hand clasped Prussia’s shoulder, effectively breaking the nation’s train of thought.  
  
“Terribly sorry about this interruption,” England interjected, destroying the moment. He locked eyes with Hungary and nodded to her apologetically. “But the frog wanted to give his parting gift to you before he leaves. He’s been talking my ear off about it.”  
  
“ _Brows_ ,” Gilbert hissed at the Englishman, upset that he couldn’t finally tell Hungary what he truly felt, “ _can it wait?_ ”  
  
“I’m afraid not,” the island nation responded curtly, providing a pointed glance at France, the latter had a medium-sized parcel tied in a neat red bow in his grip. He was at the fringes of the dancefloor, eyeing the movements of passerby with a bored expression. “It’s best not to test him these days. We all know how dramatic he can get if he’s left waiting too long.” As if on cue, Francis waved at Elizabeta and beckoned her over.  
  
Reluctantly, she made her way to Francis, leaving Prussia and England alone.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” Prussia growled once Hungary was out of earshot. The nerve of the brit!  
  
“ _Saving your drunk arse_ ,” England replied coldly as he faced the man. “This is not the time nor the place to start crying your heart out, you twat. Now go outside and sober up before you make a scene. You’ll start an international incident if you keep talking.”  
  
“I was going to tell Liz—“  
  
“—You are not going to say a word until you have better control of yourself. Let’s go.” Without bothering to hear Gilbert’s response, Arthur grabbed the other’s upper arm and practically dragged him outside, much to the Germanic nation’s dismay.  
  
Despite his valiant attempts, he couldn’t free himself from the thick-browed man’s iron grip. They passed through ornate mahogany double doors and stepped into Buda Castle’s main courtyard. “Okay, now I’m outside. You win. Can I get back in now?” Prussia grumbled as he paced around impatiently.  
  
“Not until you clear your head,” Arthur crossed his arms and glared at the other nation.  
  
“The one who isn’t thinking straight is you. Since when did you decide to work with France on something?”  
  
“Since _Crimea_ ,” England shot back as he rolled his eyes. “Frankly, this was his idea. Francis may be an _arse_ most of the time— especially since his dear Napoleon the Third has been stepping on everyone’s toes recently— but you are still his best friend. You were going to make a fool out of yourself and he decided to bail you out.”  
  
“I didn’t need either of your help.”  
  
“Just say thank you, you ungrateful tosser.”  
  
Prussia made a disgruntled sound and shoved his hands in his pockets. Damn him.  


* * *

  
Fifteen minutes rolled by and both nations were still outside. The silver-haired man was at his wit’s end as he was forcibly kept at bay. “England, stop being an _arschloch_. Get out of my way.”  
  
“Do you honestly believe you can get what you want using insults?” Arthur raised an eyebrow unamusingly. “I’ve been called worse.” He stayed in place.  
  
This was ridiculous. He didn’t need interference, especially at a time like this. “ _Verdammnt_ , England just let me leave.”  
  
“ _Non_ ,” a new voice drifted into the tense atmosphere. “Not until _we_ talk.”  
  
Oh for the love of...  
  
“Look, Franny,” Gilbert rolled his eyes and turned to the intruder, “I’m not in the mood to argue with you today. Napoleon can complain about not getting what he wants for all I care. Otto’s not going to give him a single inch.”  
  
“I’m not here to talk about politics, _mon ami_ ,” France waved a dismissive hand at the Germanic nation as he stepped past England. Said Englishman excused himself and headed back into the ballroom.  
  
“That is for another time. I wanted to talk to you. About this,” he made a sweeping gesture at Gilbert from head to toe, “and how on earth you’ve managed to not kill Austria today.”  
  
“I have manners,” Prussia retorted as he crossed his arms across his chest. A painfully nostalgic memory of him saying the exact same thing to Liz nearly a century ago made his stomach twist into knots. “I can be _civil_.”  
  
“That you are,” the Frenchman agreed with a hum. “It’s a miracle.” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t have to show up today. Hungary would understand.”  
  
“...she would, but I wanted to…” he trailed off before he could complete his sentence. _I wanted to make her happy. Even if it’s hard for me to even be here_. Francis may be his confidant when it came to discussing his feelings, but the situation made it too uncomfortable for Gilbert to talk about it so freely. In a huff, he shook off France, walked toward a baluster that separated the garden from the pathway, and leaned on the structure using both forearms for balance.  
  
“Ah, I see,” France said as if he knew exactly what was on Prussia’s mind at that moment. He followed the latter and mirrored his posture. “...you really love her, don’t you?” Francis’s softly spoken question was left hanging in the pregnant silence.  
  
Gilbert refused to look at the man. He feared that if he did, he would give away his answer. “What, me? Come on, Franny, my greatness doesn’t have time for things like that,” he lied, his tone felt thick and forced. His throat threatened to constrict and leave him at a loss for words.  
  
“You’re lying,” Francis said bluntly. “And we both know that, Gilbert.”  
  
Emotions that he thought were safely locked away had flooded his thoughts and inadvertently found his voice. “What else do you want me to say then?” Prussia snapped, finally losing control of his temper for a brief moment. “You want me to cry my heart out like some pansy? Complain that this whole thing never would’ve happened if I let Austria win? Or let everyone know what I really feel about this _verdammnt celebration_ —!” He halted his tirade and found himself staring at his curled fists before he gave a deep sigh. _Sheiße_.  
  
“Did it feel good to say it out loud?”  
  
“A little...yeah.”  
  
“Then my job is done,” Francis half-smiled and returned his attention back to the double doors. There was an audible sigh. “Gilbert, when will you learn?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
Francis pushed himself off of the baluster and fully turned to the ballroom. “That’s not a good answer.”  
  
“It’s all I got.”  
  
“Well, when you finally come up with something other than ‘I don’t know,’ you can always contact me. Send your little bird. Pierre always liked him.”  
  
“Even if Napoleon disagrees with that?”  
  
The Frenchman chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Leaders come and go. You and I will live far longer than the orders of our bosses. Napoleon has no say in things like this.”  
  
“ _Danke shön_ ,” Gilbert said quietly as he mimicked France’s position to face him, “I mean it.”  
  
“You would do the same for me,” Francis responded as he patted the other’s back. “In your own way, of course.”  
  
Their heart-to-heart conversation ended when England returned. “Oi, frog,” the thick-browed man started in a huff. “I can’t hold off Hungary forever. She’s been wondering where the hell you’ve been.”  
  
“Ah, that is my cue to leave,” France winked at Gilbert. “You can’t move on until you stop and listen to yourself every once in a while.”  
  
“Get a move on,” England interjected impatiently. “I’m sure Prussia’s sick of hearing your mouth spout out french nonsense.”  
  
“Moody today, _Angleterre_?” France tut-tutted and leaned closer to the Englishman. He grinned devilishly as his hair brushed Arthur’s cheek. “ _Je serai á Alsace. Ne sois pas en retard_ ,” he said in a low whisper, which Prussia inadvertently heard. Much to his confusion. France exited and disappeared into the crowd.  
  
England turned beet red in response, even after Francis left. In a low tone, he scoffed, “Bloody frog.” His forest green eyes flickered to Gilbert’s bewildered expression. “What are you looking at?”  
  
Despite his turmoiled thoughts plaguing him, Prussia gave a lopsided smirk. “You were talking about Franny earlier, weren’t you?”  
  
Arthur was still red. With eyebrows furrowed, he spared a glance at his sides as if he was making sure no one else was nearby. He then gave the other nation the middle finger and quickly turned heel. “Are you coming back inside or what?” He asked as if nothing happened. As if he never admitted to anything.  
  
Unable to help himself, Prussia laughed. “Nah, not yet. I’ll stay out here for a bit longer.”  
  
“If you talk about this to anyone, I’ll kick your arse.” It was a promise. Not an empty threat.  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of it, _loverboy_ ,” Gilbert assured, albeit with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He saw England stiffen at the comment. Luckily for the former, nothing happened. There was no reprimand nor a biting remark. Not even denial. Arthur merely huffed audibly before he departed.  
  
Left alone with his thoughts, Prussia let the soft smirk dissolve.  
  
It was a strange feeling. The apprehension. Just a few minutes ago, he was more than ready to run back into the festivities and drown himself in the grandeur and pomp. Now the thought of it made him hesitant. Perhaps he should leave. Since Hungary already saw him, what difference would it be if he simply vanished from the celebration? Away from the noise and safely out of sight, it was the smarter choice. He should leave before the alcohol truly seizes his bitterness and twist it until he speaks of nothing else but that.  
  
But he doesn’t move.  
  
_Choose, dummkopf. Stay or leave. Come on. It shouldn’t be this hard.  
_  
“Ah, excuse me, I’m looking for— oh it’s you,” a sudden intruder forced Prussia to jolt at his words. He knew that voice and tone anywhere. Austria.  
  
The air was suddenly fraught with tension.  
  
Immediately, the crimson-eyed nation narrowed his eyes. He looked over his shoulder, not bothering to hide his serious expression. “Roderich,” he said stiffly. It seemed like his luck wasn’t in his favor that day.  
  
“Gilbert,” the bespectacled nation responded in an equally firm manner as he tugged the collar of his tunic and cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying yourself in the celebration?”  
  
“More or less. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, entertaining other guests?” _And not me_ , he nearly spat. _Just get the hell away from me_. Prussia straightened his back and drew himself to his full height as he left his place to face the Austrian. He hoped that it was enough for the aristocrat to get the hint that he didn’t want to talk and leave him alone to his devices.  
  
“You are a guest as well,” Austria answered flatly, completely ignoring the other’s attempt at intimidation. Instead, he had the gall to stare back at him.  
  
Frustrated with the other nation’s answer, Gilbert glared. “Why are you being nice? Aren’t you mad about what happened?” He didn’t understand, why was Roderich not furious with him?  
  
“About your actions earlier today or before that?”  
  
“Everything.”    
  
Austria breathed in and clasped his hands behind his back. “I could be, but I find that a waste of time. What’s done is done.”  
  
“That’s all you want to say?” Gilbert questioned with a frown. “You’re not mad at all?”  
  
“Being not mad at all is wholly different from harboring resentment for what you’ve done. There is only so long I can control my temper before it becomes exhausting to fight against it. However, I still believe that inviting you was a mistake,” Roderich muttered, his tone controlled and even.  
  
“So why did you?” Gilbert pressed.  
  
“Elizabeta insisted,” Austria explained flatly. “If it were up to me, I would not let you be in Budapest, let alone invited to Josef’s coronation. Or even to our w—“  
  
“—alright,” Prussia waved a hand and halted the other man’s tirade. He heard enough. It was ironic. To think that exactly a year ago, he celebrated the annexation of Holstein as Austria withdrew his troops from the duchy after his defeat in Königgrätz. A swift and decisive victory had brought Roderich to his knees and forced his army to flee as Prussia’s men relentlessly pursued them. That was the last major battle before the armistice. Prussia’s victory was meant to be the pinnacle of his military conquests. Not the catalyst that drove Hungary to— Gilbert halted his train of thought, unable to come to terms with the past yet. “There’s no need to say it, Specs.”  
  
“I want to know why you are here.”  
  
“I was invited.”  
  
“Nonetheless, you’ve made your stance about all of this crystal clear, Gilbert,” Austria responded in a strict tone. “I have not forgotten the words we exchanged earlier either.”  
  
“Relax, Four-Eyes,” Prussia started as he leaned on the railing, “You want to know the real reason why I came here?” He coughed into his hand and pretended to be nonchalant about it. “I just wanted to say congrats.”  
  
Within his line of sight, he saw Roderich’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “Come again?”  
  
“You heard me. I don’t want to fight. At least not today of all days.”  
  
“How oddly pacifistic of you,” the Austrian quipped.  
  
Prussia winced. “I’m being honest, aristocrat! It’s not often you’re graced with this,” he pointed to himself with a puffed out chest, “Consider yourself lucky.”  
  
“Gilbert, _why are you really here?_ ”  
  
“I already told you.”  
  
Austria didn’t look like he believed him. “ _Gott_ , if this is for appearance’s sake, you shouldn’t be here.”  
  
“It isn’t,” Gilbert scoffed. It partially wasn’t true. “I’m here for Liz. But you already knew that.”  
  
“Honestly, I thought you’d try and do something to stop the festivities.”  
  
“I’m a lot of things. Being petty isn’t one of them.”  
  
Roderich laughed dryly. “Noble and pacifistic. This is truly rare.”  
_  
__He’s trying to piss me off._ “You are getting on my nerves,” he said, tensed. Unable to stay still and allow his frustration to build up, he started to pace back and forth. Hidden away from Roderich’s eyes, the other nation repetitively clenched and unclenched his hand. Calm down. He’s just being an ass.  
  
“I’m only stating the obvious. I’m not trying to start an argument here.” _Pretentious bastard. Of course you are._ “ Though it may comfort you to know that as far as our governments are concerned, this is merely political.”  
  
Gilbert halted his pacing and stared at Roderich. Did he just hear him correctly? Just political?  “Did you lose your vision too, Specs? Because the way Liz looks at you,” his words faltered as his sluggish mind realized his slip-up too late, “it isn’t _just political_.”  
  
Austria blushed at the remark and turned away from the other. The weight of their heated exchange finally caught up to both men as they stood in awkward silence. Too much was said. Too bitter and filled with resentment. The damage was done.  
  
With a deep breath, Gilbert numbly walked into the ballroom and avoided the other’s stunned expression.  
  


* * *

  
Prussia wasn’t sure why he was still there.

After the tense conversation with Roderich, he was fully prepared to make his exit. Night had fallen but he was still milling about— a wandering ghost among the sea of people, nursing a half-warm pint he snatched from a waiter. Following a brief sip of beer, Gilbert let himself get lost in his memories. For some reason— maybe it was his subconscious telling him something— his thoughts drifted to the morning’s events. Before the grand party and his subsequent arrival at Buda Castle.  
  
_“What do you think you’re—!”  
  
“—shut up for a second and listen!” Gilbert hissed as he backed Austria into a wall. Both nations were in a deserted hallway as most of the guests were in the main hall of Matthias Cathedral a few doors down, patiently waiting for the main event.  
  
“If I ever hear from Liz or anyone else that you hurt her,” Prussia glowered at the bespectacled man as he grabbed a fistful of the other nation’s uniform, “I will personally end you.”  
  
Austria merely stared at him, his violet eyes flickered at the threat. “I swear to you, I will never do that to her.”  
  
“You better or else I’ll have your head,” the Prussian growled before he backed off and straightened his uniform. “And keep this conversation between us.”  
  
Roderich fixed his clothes as well and grumbled, “I will.”_  
  
Prussia shook away the rest of his thoughts after feeling a headache forming from it. There was no point in thinking about it anymore. The only thing that occupied his mind was to control his emotions as much as possible. He was determined to not make a scene.  
  
Before he could quietly slip away and find solace in an empty balcony, he was swept up in the crowd’s boisterous cheering, fixated on a noble who stood next to Roderich and Elizabeta with a bashful expression. “ _Indivisibiliter ac Inseparabiliter!_ ” The noble announced amongst the crowds, raising his glass in the direction of Austria and Hungary. “ _Lange lebe die Österreichisch-Ungarische Monarchie!_ ”  
  
Gilbert finally looked back at his fellow nations and felt his heart clench when he noticed the glint of Elizabeta’s wedding ring. A small, bittersweet grin was on his face as he met Hungary's eyes. _At least I’m the one man Roderich will never be._ _  
_  
The Hungarian responded with a soft smile, oblivious to the pang of heartache she gave him with that simple look. _He’ll never be Liz’s first love._ He slightly raised his glass in her direction as a form of congratulations before noticing the lack of alcohol in it. _I can live with that, at least._ _  
_  
Guests with a glass in their hands mimicked the noble and raised their glasses high above their heads. Unwilling to spoil the exuberant mood in the celebration, Prussia joined the crowd as they cried out, “ _Zum die Österreichisch-Ungarische Monarchie!_ ”  
  
As soon as the last word left his lips, his free hand— which was hidden behind his back— curled into a fist.  
  
Gilbert was going to need another glass if he was going to get through the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> -Frankly, I had this written way before Allegro Con Dolcezza. It took me a while to finish this story. A couple of parts were hard to write because some of it didn't feel like the right emotion was shown. Nonetheless, I hope I conveyed Gilbert's emotions throughout this fic without making it too OOC.
> 
> -Early drafts of this fic had Prussia lamenting how Austria and Hungary were a couple, but then I remembered about the Austro-Hungarian Empire, so the story changed to reflect that in a more historical perspective. And to twist the emotional knife a bit more, in a manner of speaking.
> 
> -Prussia's reaction to France's entrance on the balcony is a nod to the growing tensions between their two countries. At that time, France's Emperor Napoleon the Third wanted land for strategic purposes after the Austro-Prussian War. Otto Von Bismark, the Prussian Chancellor, refused and instead sought to bring the southern German states under his control. Napoleon saw the move as a threat as a German alliance would strengthen the Prussian military as a result. The Franco-Prussian War would happen in 1870.
> 
> -Prussia's mention of the Battle of Hostein refers to the Austro-Prussian War in 1866. The war was basically Prussia trying to unify the German states and push Austria out of the position as the most dominant power in the region. In the end, Prussia defeated Austria, gaining control of the states to eventually create what would be known as Germany.
> 
> -Consequently, the Austrian Empire nearly collapsed from financial debt. In order to prevent that, the Habsburgs turned to Hungary for help, in the hopes that reconciling with the Hungarian policial elite would save the dynasty. It was the nobles that made the decision to accept the Habsburgs.
> 
> -Interestingly, the majority of the Hungarian population weren't exactly happy to hear about the compromise because they didn't really have a say in the matter. They saw it as a betrayal after the Hungarian Revolution of 1848, where they nearly gained independence from Austria had it not been for the Russian Empire.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> -"Je serai á Alsace. Ne sois pas en retard" = I'll be in Alsace. Don't be late.
> 
> -"Indivisibiliter ac Inseparabiliter" is the Austro-Hungarian Empire's motto: Indivisible and Inseparable.
> 
> -"Lange lebe die Österreichisch-Ungarische Monarchie" = Long live the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy


End file.
